The First Day of the Rest of Their Lives
by RJRJRJ
Summary: What happened when the Champions met for the first time.


_Disclaimer: The Champions and characters are the property of ITC Carlton. This fan fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no profit will be made from it. Thanks to Fiction2 for being my beta._

**THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF THEIR LIVES**

by

Rachael Jurassic

Craig Stirling sat back against a low wall at the edge of the airstrip and relaxed. There was nothing to do now but wait. His partner didn't seem to share his sentiments.

Craig glanced over and watched him checking his gear for the umpteenth time. Where he thought it had gone since the last time he had checked it he wasn't sure. All he was sure of was that he'd be checking it again in ten minutes unless the plane arrived and put him out of his misery.

He was having trouble working Richard out. They'd only started working together on a regular basis nine months before after Richard's previous partner had been hospitalised in a parachuting accident in Nigeria during the civil war. Steve Harper now had a desk job in the Hong Kong office, Craig Stirling now had Richard Barrett.

It wasn't all bad though. He was likeable enough, generally easy going and he made Craig laugh. But he was also prone to long periods of silence when he looked, for all the world, like he was trying to solve a particularly nasty quadratic equation in his head. These silences were punctuated with endless discourses on the history of northern India, the square rigging on a brigantine, the merits of leg spin bowling or some other such nonsense he supposed Craig was interested in. He wasn't.

Richard had been occupied for the last three days with something called The Ashes and was now fiddling with the reception on the beat up transistor radio that perched precariously on his kit bag. Craig had decided to feign interest earlier in the day and succeeded in getting him to explain the LBW rule four times before Richard had caught on and studiously ignored him. Feeling a little bored, he got up and sauntered over.

"So, have they won yet?" he asked.

"Hmm? Er no, it's only the third day."

"Third? So tomorrow then?"

"I've told you before, it's a five day game."

"Jeez, that's a long game."

"Go away, Craig, I know you're not interested."

The radio lost reception at what was evidently a crucial moment given Richard's frantic activity and muttered obscenities.

"Do you want a hand?"

"Not really," Richard replied through gritted teeth.

The commentary crackled back into life.

"...._walks back to the pavilion, it's 143 for 6_..."

"Jesus Christ!"

"Is that bad?"

"It's not even lunch yet!"

"Lunch? Do they get points for lunch?"

Richard ignored him.

"Seriously, kiddo. I had no idea there was food involved. Do they get dinner as well?"

Richard held the radio up to his ear.

"_...not sure, but I think it was missing leg side, Jim. The crowd's not pleased, but it's been given. So that's Cowdrey out LBW for..."_

"LBW?"

Richard turned sharply.

"Piss off! Will you just piss off!!"

Craig put his hands up in mock surrender.

"Hey there, buddy. You don't want to be all in a lather when Miss Macready arrives, do you?"

Richard looked like he was going to rail at him again but stopped himself and took a deep breath.

"God, I hate you."

"Well at least you're addressing me by my correct title at last."

Richard turned away quickly, but not in time to prevent Craig seeing his face begin to crack.

"Well, I'll let you get back to the football," Craig said as he returned once more to sit in the shade.

*****

Richard took a moment to compose himself. He took out a cigarette and lit it. 'One day,' he thought 'I'm going to hit him.' Immediately after that thought another one came, unbidden. 'I hope he doesn't hit me back.'

He looked at his watch. The plane was late. Still, there were storms over Delhi so maybe they'd been delayed. There was plenty of time before they had to set off. He resisted the urge to check his kit again and sat with his back resting against a large orange bag labeled 'Dinghy Pack'.

As the shadows lengthened Richard listened to the familiar, crackling voice on the radio and contented himself with the thought that Craig would never be able to get his tiny, little American mind around the subtleties of cricket. Having said that, Richard's mind was having problems focusing on the game just at that moment.

Sharron Macready. He hoped she was as stunning as she was in her photograph. He also hoped she wouldn't fall for the charm offensive that would be unleashed the moment Craig met her. Still, he had a plan. Two hours on the return trip and Craig trapped flying the plane. Perfect. Two hours to convince her to give him her phone number. After all, it was unlikely he'd ever work with her again. Tremayne had made this mission sound like a one off. So limited awkwardness when she turned him down. 'Jesus, Richard,' he thought 'just because she's gorgeous and intelligent doesn't mean she's going to turn you down.'

He looked over at Craig. He appeared to be pretending to take a nap. At least he presumed he was pretending, he couldn't possibly be that relaxed. Could he?

It wasn't that he didn't like him. It was just that they had been sharing a room for two weeks now and it was driving him a little crazy. At first there had been plenty to do. They had been in contact with various individuals with information about the Chinese research facility and had slowly mapped out a plan of action. Then it was just a question of waiting for the new moon and the plane to be flown up from Hong Kong.

Normally they got on well enough and he had to admit that Craig made him laugh, sometimes. But Richard generally preferred to work alone. That way nobody could tell him what to do. He was not a born leader, he was aware of this, but it didn't necessarily mean he wanted to be ordered around either. It hadn't been so bad with Steve, he was older and more experienced. Craig on the other hand was younger and less experienced and yet still insisted on calling him 'kiddo'. Maybe it was an American thing?

But there was no point arguing about it. Craig was just the kind of man who needed to be in charge and you either went with the flow or you didn't. Besides, whilst not being exactly an intellectual he wasn't stupid either. He was remarkably adept at coming up with plans under pressure and good to have in a fight. Despite their very different personalities it turned out they worked very well together. Richard would just have to deal with the fact that he was an irritating git sometimes and would probably end up with Sharron Macready's phone number.

*****

Craig Stirling opened his eyes. He must have drifted off because Richard was now talking to two locals. They were gathered around the radio and Richard appeared to be trying to translate the commentary with a bizarre set of hand gestures. Somehow they seemed to be getting it.

One thing Craig had learned about India was that they were crazy about cricket. The night before, he and Richard had decided to go out to a local bar. Craig had spent the evening drinking in a corner while everyone else in the place listened to an ancient radio set. Only a handful of them understood English but this didn't seem to matter, they were all having a whale of a time. Richard had fit in perfectly. He had a knack for that, he could get along with pretty much anybody. It's what made him so good at undercover work.

He supposed it was because Richard wasn't threatening. That wasn't to say he couldn't hold his own in a fight, in fact once he'd made his mind up, try stopping him. It was that it was never his first option. On first meeting Richard it was immediately clear that he wouldn't be knocking your teeth out or trying to steal your girl any time soon. These things made him generally popular.

Craig glanced at his watch. The plane had been due an hour ago. He was familiar with the type of aircraft, having flown it in the region on a number of occasions, but he'd be happier when he got on board and could run a flight check. He'd also be happier when he finally got to meet one of its occupants.

Sharron Macready's file had arrived at their hotel two days earlier. He'd been informed by Tremayne that a young, female bacteriologist would be working with them and he had initially been dismayed at the thought of having to baby sit an inexperienced operative through such an important mission. Having had a look at the photograph attached, however, he could see that there might be an upside. From the goofy grin that had appeared on Richard's face he could tell he was thinking much the same thing. That, and the fact that when Craig had pointed out to him that she was out of his league he had become unusually defensive and irritable.

Craig ran through the plan in his head. It was a bit crass to hit on a fellow operative before a mission but there was no harm in turning on the charm. He was pretty confident she wasn't the type of girl who would go for goofy grins and the particular brand of un-cool Richard was working with so he just had to make sure he made a good first impression and then bide his time until they made it safely back to Lucknow. At which point he'd get her phone number and call her up the next time he was back in Geneva.

There was only one possible hitch. Two hours in a plane, there and back, when he would be preoccupied with flying and Richard would have a free shot. On the way out he would undoubtedly be too much of a professional to make a move. Besides, he was usually somewhat twitchy before a mission, which wasn't a good look. But on the way back he would be his relaxed, amiable self again. Admittedly he would probably bore her rigid with a detailed geological history of the Himalayas but she was a doctor and a bacteriologist so she might go for that science thing. Something had to be done.

So Craig had come up with a plan. Offer her the co-pilot's seat. It was perfect and he could even teach her to fly a little when they were high enough. This had several advantages; he'd get to talk to her, show off his piloting skills, flatter her first attempts at flying and, very importantly, it would probably freak Richard out. A win-win situation.

He looked up as he heard the dull rumbling of an approaching aircraft. He thought he recognized the sound of the engine so he got up and wandered over to Richard who was looking upwards, trying to spot the plane.

"Is that it?" he asked.

"Think so."

As he said this he caught sight of the aeroplane on its final approach.

"All right kiddo, we're on." Craig picked up his kit bag as Richard tried to explain to the two locals that they'd have to be going. By the time they had moved off, the plane was taxiing towards them.

"By the way Craig, I've been meaning to ask. Why did you bring a dinghy pack?"

"A what?"

"A dinghy pack." He kicked the orange bag. "You do realize we're flying over the Himalayas, don't you? Not much water up there. Unless you're planning on getting lost."

"Funny."

Richard unzipped the bag. "Yup, definitely a dinghy pack. Two in fact, which is going to be a problem as there are three of us."

"You're hysterical."

"Oh actually, never mind. I'll share my dinghy with her any day."

Craig turned and was greeted by the sight of Sharron Macready walking towards them from the plane.

"Bloody hell," he heard Richard exclaim behind him.

"I'll say. Where do her legs end?"

"Somewhere in Nepal?"

"Don't get over excited, Richard. Remember we're on a mission."

Craig gave him a quick wink and walked off to greet Miss Macready. Richard wasn't far behind.

*****

Sharron Macready was not unaware of the effect she had on men. As a young girl it had been a novelty she had enjoyed, but since the death of her husband she'd had little time for it. Somehow the fun had gone out of it and she was merely reminded of what she had lost.

She was not surprised, therefore, when she was greeted with a charming smile from the tall, dark and, admittedly, very handsome Craig Stirling.

Tremayne had briefed her just before she left for Hong Kong. She knew he had been a pilot with the United States Air Force and that he was in charge. Her boss had assured her that he was very experienced and that she had nothing to worry about. His body language said otherwise. She understood that this was not a standard first mission for any agent. Normally a field operative would be started out on something a bit more straightforward than a raid behind the Bamboo Curtain. Still they had had little choice. Their contact knew the general nature of the research being carried out but none of the specifics, so Nemesis needed someone on site who could identify the right bugs to sample. That's where she came in.

"Craig Stirling," said the American as he extended a hand.

"Sharron Macready."

"I'm your pilot for the day," he continued, shaking her hand for a moment longer than Sharron thought necessary. "You don't have to worry, I'll look after you." He oozed charm.

"Pleased to meet you," she smiled politely and looked over his shoulder to where his partner stood. He was looking at Stirling with a somewhat resigned expression. "You must be Richard Barrett."

"Hello."

Richard extended his hand, which she shook briefly.

"So what do you do?" she asked.

Richard smiled slightly.

"Oh, pretty much everything else," he said with a shrug.

"Well, we'd better get this stuff on board," Craig cut in, "I'll be running my flight check."

Craig strode off towards the plane, rather proving Richard's point.

"Do you want a hand?" Sharron asked, pointing at the pile of equipment behind him.

"No, no. You'll probably be wanting to check your kit or something."

"Yes all right, I'll do that."

She left Richard with the gear.

Richard Barrett seemed like a different kettle of fish entirely. Sharron had little time for men who thought too much of themselves and Craig had come across as a typically over confident fly-boy. Conversely, on first impressions, over confidence did not seem to be a problem Richard had. Having said that, Tremayne had told her not to underestimate the Englishman. Just because he looked like he thought the sky was about to fall on his head didn't mean he wasn't one of the best operatives Nemesis had.

She hopped on board to find Stirling sitting in the pilot's seat flipping switches.

"You should check your kit," he said over his shoulder.

"Yes, I was just about to."

She walked to the back of the plane feeling a little irritated. She didn't much like being told what to do but had to accept that she was very much out of her depth here. When she'd joined the Nemesis research department she had had no idea that she would find herself in the middle of a dangerous operation within three months. She was well aware that her life was very much in the hands of her two new companions.

As she inspected her kit Barrett jumped on board carrying a couple of bags, which he stored next to her.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Yes, fine. When are we off?"

"That's up to Craig."

"Right. He's a good pilot?" she asked. Her voice came out more nervously than she'd hoped for.

"Passable," Richard replied with a smile, "so long as he doesn't get lost." To his credit he must have noticed her unease because after a short pause he added, "he's a good pilot," more earnestly this time. He gave her a quick smile before heading off to get the rest of the kit.

Sharron didn't like the feeling that was rising in her stomach. Both the men seemed so casual about this. She supposed they'd been on hundreds of missions, this must all seem very routine. She, on the other hand, was starting to feel a little sick. She hated not being in control of her emotions. Normally she kept herself in check with ease. Even after Paul's death she had maintained a calm exterior in public, not wanting to share her misery with anybody. Only her elder brother Charlie had been witness to it. He'd been a rock.

Richard appeared next to her once more.

"Five minutes apparently," he said as he stuffed an orange bag behind a seat.

"Oh, thanks."

"It should take a couple of hours to the landing zone."

"How's the weather?" she asked.

"Might be a bit bumpy," he replied as he turned, "still, that's what seatbelts are for," he said over his shoulder.

"Right."

He disappeared out on to the tarmac again. She had checked her equipment and now, at a loss what to do, she wandered up to the cockpit. Craig looked over his shoulder and smiled.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"All ready."

"You can sit here if you like." He indicated the co-pilot's seat.

"No, that's all right, I gather there might be a bit of turbulence."

"Nothing serious. Look, don't let Richard worry you, he always a bit twitchy before a mission."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Just do what I say, when I say it and everything will be fine."

"I'll do my best," she replied slightly tetchily.

"Don't worry, Tremayne wouldn't have assigned you if he didn't think you were up to it." He shot her one of his most winning smiles. She smiled back. Despite herself his confidence was making her feel a little better.

"Hey, a little help back here."

She turned to see Richard struggling to get an oversized bag through the door. She turned and tried to help but the dimensions were all wrong and it refused to budge.

"Craig, shift yourself!" Richard yelled.

"I'm in the middle of something."

"Oh, never mind then, we'll leave it. I'm sure it's nothing important. Probably just your hair drier." He flashed a smile at Sharron. She laughed back.

Craig appeared beside her.

"You crack me up."

"Come on then."

Stirling gave the bag an almighty effort pulling both it and Richard through the door.

"You alright down there, kiddo?" Craig asked looking at Richard sprawled half in and half out of the plane.

"Never better."

"Is that everything?"

"Hang on."

Richard disappeared once more to return moments later with his radio. He hopped on board placing it on one of the seats.

"How are we doing?" Sharron asked.

"Not so well. 183 for 6, but we've got a bit of a seventh wicket stand going on. And it looks like rain so we might escape with a draw."

"Well it is Old Trafford."

"Hang on," Craig butted in, "five days and it might end up in a draw?"

"Probably the best we can hope for at this point," Richard replied.

Craig stood for a moment looking at the Englishman in disbelief.

"You're insane," he muttered.

"_...swept the chinaman beautifully between mid on and deep square leg. No chance of reaching it before_..."

Craig looked for a moment as if he was going to ask for a translation of that deeply impenetrable sentence and then thought better of it. "You'll have to switch that off, it'll interfere with the instruments," he said instead.

"Really?" Richard looked perplexed.

Craig leant over and hit the button before returning to the pilot's seat.

Richard looked rather disgruntled.

Sharron tried to repress a smile. She was well aware that it was not sensible to get between an Englishman and his cricket. Her father had played briefly for the Sussex junior team so she'd been brought up with the game, playing in the garden with her three brothers.

"Shut the door will you, Richard?" Craig said as the engines started up.

"Fine, fine."

She decided she liked Richard. She was not naïve enough to believe that he wasn't probably hitting on her in his own way but at least it was easily ignored. He pulled the door shut and sat in the seat next to her as the plane taxied to the end of the runway.

"OK, people," Craig shouted over the sound of the engines, "buckle up and enjoy the ride."

The plane accelerated and Sharron felt her stomach lurch as the wheels left the ground. She couldn't shake the feeling that her life wasn't going to be the same after this.

Oh well, she thought, here goes nothing.

THE END


End file.
